Fallaciously Framed!
by Londonmage
Summary: CHAPTER 5 UP! A nineyear old Boromir is causing mischief and mayhem when his history lesson proves to be too boring... A little bit of lighthearted fun. Not to be taken too seriously. : COMPLETE [Cowritten with my lovely sister, Dene4]
1. Trouble With the Tutor

** Fallaciously Framed!** by Dene4 & Simply Sara

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**Author's Note/Disclaimer**: For fun, not profit, as always. Any and all non-canonical and/or impossible situations/characterizations/modernizations/etc. found within the following story, are for the sake of said story, so don't flame us citing our misrepresentations or "mistakes". We know canon, sometimes we just choose to ignore/bend/twist it a little bit. But only a little. And only for fun. The idea, genius, and working force behind this story is Dene4, my younger sister. I, Simply Sara, was simply present to edit, offer suggestions, support, corrections, additions, new ideas, etc. The title of this story in currently tentative and could change. I personally hope it will, but my sister does have dibs on the title rights.

Well, here's to hoping you'll be amused : )

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**Ch. 1** Trouble With the Tutor

Faramir and Boromir were sitting side by side in a rather spacious room of the White Tower. Their tutor, Ienmir, was teaching an extremely boring lesson on the history of Gondor. Boromir had long ago ceased listening to the woman's droning and was instead doodling lazily on his papers, careful to at least look like he was paying attention.

"Boromir!"

Suddenly he jerked to attention.

"Boromir?" Ienmir inquired angrily, "Have you been paying attention to a word I've been saying? Her wrinkled face bore an expression that was nothing short of fuming.

"Uh…umm…no," replied Boromir, his words perhaps a bit too honest, much too sarcastic, and far too colored in the meaning 'Does it _look_ like I've been paying attention?'

Faramir grinned and suppressed a snicker, looked away from his brother, and pretended to be engrossed in the papers on the desk in front of him.

"And what, Faramir, son of Denethor, is so funny?" Ienmir asked, her gaze too keen for his grins to go unnoticed. Her frustration went up a notch at the lack of respect from both of them.

"Um…sorry Lady Ienmir," he piped up quickly, "I meant no disrespect. I offer my most sincere apologies for my impertinence." Boromir burst out laughing at the response, half at the elaborate respect conveyed, and half at the way his young brother stumbled over the word 'impertinence'. He'd been present the evening his mother had tried to get him to say it without lisping.

Lady Ienmir, however charmed by Faramir, was not amused at Boromir's laughter. "Now what are you so amused about Boromir?" she inquired, slightly confused as to what could be that funny.

Boromir realized she couldn't appreciate the humor for she hadn't been there when Mother had made Faramir memorize that sentence and told him to say it whenever he upset a tutor or other adult.

"Nothing, Lady," Boromir said smiling widely. "Let us continue with the lesson!" he continued anxiously, eager to get attention off of himself before trouble was unavoidable. He was also tired of seeing her so angry for reasons both understandable and fundamental to his survival tonight at dinner.

"Very well, Boromir," Ienmir said, not convinced of his sincerity in the least, but ready to move on to other things, "we'll continue." She was supposed to be teaching them after all. "Apology accepted," she said returning her attention to Faramir, "And very well spoken young man!" Faramir beamed and Boromir had to hide an eye roll.

"Moving back to our original topic, in the year 1975 of the Third Age…" Boromir tuned her out once more and began working on a new project. He carefully ripped a piece of paper into a card-sized square while Ienmir's back was turned pointing to something on a map and nattering on about Lossarnach, trade in the Ethir, and other similarly snore-inducing subjects. He squinted and chewed his lip, thinking of what to write. A brilliant idea popped into his mind. _Genius!_ Boromir thought. He beamed at his handiwork.

On both sides he had written "To keep an idiot busy for hours, just turn this card over!" He cackled mischievously; but, only in his head so Ienmir wouldn't catch his drift.

He absorbed himself in other doodles and time flew by surprisingly fast.

"You are both dismissed," Ienmir said, "You may go home know." Boromir began to leave, making a beeline for the door.

"Of course," Ienmir went on, "I'll be informing your father of your behavior." Boromir froze. "I'm sure he'll be interested in your lack of attention to your studies." Ienmir smiled a smile Boromir supposed only an extremely pleased dragon could smile.

He winced and quit the room, catching up to Faramir. He shook his head. "Great!" he exclaimed, "She really has it in for me." Faramir looked up worriedly, pity evident on his face.

"Who does, Boromir?" a very familiar, feminine voice asked from behind him. Boromir smiled nervously and winced again as he turned around to face his mother.

"Well…uh…I sort of really upset Lady Ienmir." Finduilas nodded, unsurprised. As they walked Boromir hurriedly told her the whole story. To his surprise she laughed. He looked up, unsure.

"You know, that sounds an awful lot like stories your Grandmother used to tell me about your father when he was young," Finduilas said stifling her giggles.

"Daddy did stuff like Boromir?!" Faramir questioned incredulously. Boromir couldn't help but share the sentiment.

"Yes," Finduilas replied. "Once…your father even set his tutor's beard on fire--accidentally of course." She dissolved into giggles again. This time, her sons joined in.

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In case any reading this are wondering what happened to "The Great Middle Earth Game Show" I have a confession: I lost the second chapter. The third chapter is already written but without the second chapter it doesn't make sense. My sister, the newly christened "Dene4", is currently re-writing the story and threatening my life for losing it. _This_ story is almost completely finished though and the next chapter should be up very soon. Really. Truly.

Thanks for reading!

God bless,

Dene4 and Sara


	2. Dinner With the Steward

**Fallaciously Framed!**

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by Dene4 & Simply Sara

**Author's Note/Disclaimer**: For fun, not profit, as always. Any and all non-canonical and/or impossible situations/characterizations/modernizations/etc. found within the following story, are for the sake of said story, so please don't review us citing our misrepresentations or "mistakes". We know canon, sometimes we just choose to ignore/bend/twist it a little bit. But only a little. And only for fun. The idea, genius, and working force behind this story is Dene4, my younger sister. I, Simply Sara, was simply present to edit, offer suggestions, support, corrections, additions, new ideas, new wordings, etc. The title of this story in currently tentative and could change. I personally hope it will, but my sister does have dibs on the title rights.

Well, here's to hoping you'll continue to be amused : )

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**Ch.**** 2** Dinner With the Steward

For dinner that night, the servants brought out quite a delicious feast. Roast chicken, bread, soup, roast duck, almond tarts, etc., all graced the table with their presence as well as a rather enormous bowl of ripe, red, cherry tomatoes, Denethor's favourite. (Typist tries not to laugh)

Faramir and Boromir entered the hall silently, both fearing the wrath of their father. Finduilas followed them in and sat quietly. They all began eating after the solemn moment of silence facing west—all except Boromir that was. He couldn't help but be fearful and he wasn't really in the mood to eat. Finduilas looked up and sternly caught his eye. Her look clearly said "Eat up or your Father will _know_ something is wrong." Boromir took a tentative bite of his bread.

Before he had finished chewing, a servant came in with a letter and discreetly placed it by Denethor's plate. The Steward quirked an eyebrow but continued chewing. Finduilas glanced at her eldest child who tried in vain to stop from choking on his bread and hide a grimace. Faramir coughed to hide a tiny giggle. Finduilas turned her gaze to him raising both her eyebrows. Denethor observed them all, eyebrow quirking to a higher degree.

The message-carrying servant looked slightly confused, standing uncertainly beside the Steward's chair. Usually, the Steward immediately inquired after who had sent the letter. "Uh…from Lady Ienmir, my lord," the servant supplied, somewhat perplexed. Denethor's eyebrow quickly unquirked itself. His gaze settled on Boromir, who thought his father looked very disturbing when he looked at him that way. Boromir slumped in his seat. Faramir on the other hand looked pleased as pie, sitting happily, waiting for the outburst he was certain was on its way.

Denethor picked up his knife to cut open the letter, eyes seeming never to leave Boromir's. Boromir's response was to gulp and sink lower in his chair. In one smooth motion he slit open the envelope. Finduilas suppressed a smile, amused at how characteristically dramatic her husband was being. Knowing all to well his son's fear, he purposefully kept the knife in his hand longer than necessary, looking back and forth between knife and son, as if he was contemplating _what_ exactly he should _do_ with said knife. Boromir didn't move. He didn't even breathe.

Denethor finally laid the knife gingerly down beside his plate and dropped eye contact with his son. Boromir breathed an all but inaudible sigh of relief and sat up a little straighter. Finduilas brought her napkin to her mouth to hide a grin. Denethor pulled out the letter, looking once again in Boromir's direction. The elder son of Denethor slumped once more.

Denethor coughed, largely for dramatic effect. Finduilas and Faramir shared small grins. "My Lord Steward," Denethor began reading the letter, "I regret to inform you…"

_Why, oh why, is he reading it out loud?!_ Boromir thought frantically. He wished he could disappear entirely. Well, either that or at least find a decent hiding place. What kind of nut thought it was a good idea to hide by slumping down in your chair? Yeah…like that would ever work. Better than nothing, though, he supposed.

Denethor continued: "That your son…" he paused.

Faramir suddenly had an epiphany. What if the letter was about him? Faramir gulped weakly—he'd always been a little paranoid. His mother threw him a quizzical look but his only response was to turn a very interesting shade of pink. Denethor continued yet again: "Boromir (here Faramir breathed a sigh of relief) is failing to keep his attention upon his work." Denethor stopped reading long enough to throw Boromir a particularly murderous look. At least, it looked murderous to Boromir. Boromir seemed to turn a sickly shade of green. "However, I am sure with the proper mind set he shall certainly be able to concentrate, for he is indeed a very bright young man, full of much potential. I merely wished to inform you of the situation so that you might act accordingly. Sincerely," Denethor punctuated, "Lady. Ienmir." He placed the letter to the side of his plate and looked meaningfully at Finduilas who raised both eyebrows. He turned his gaze to Boromir, who merely continued to play with his hands as he had started to do after his father said the word "failing".

"Boromir," Denethor began, his voice rising, "Do you mind telling me what in the name of Gondor is going on?"

"Well…uh…sir…see…I…uh…sort of…um…was…a little bit…uh…um…rude….to…uh…Lady Ienmir." He told the story again. When Boromir was finished, he dared a glance at his father's face. The Steward's eyes looked like burning pieces of coal, getting fiercer with every moment that passed. Boromir gulped, pondering all the things his father could do to him.

"Boromir," Denethor said in that all too calm voice he used when upset," your mother and I will discuss your punishment later, but for now, go to your room."

"Yes, sir," Boromir said obediently. He certainly wasn't at all pleased with the outcome of dinner, but he was certainly thrilled to be out of the company of his father's piercing stare. He excused himself in silence. Faramir tried his best to keep his face straight as his brother timidly (and with some speed), quit the room.

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Hi! Hope you enjoyed this second chapter. And thanks so much for your reviews. I really wanted to get this next chapter before I left this afternoon, so I decided to delay the Reviewer Response section so I could get this next chapter up. My church youth group is going on a mission trip to Ohio, so I won't be back till late Saturday night. Next chapter should be up soon after that though with the reviewer response section I didn't have time to add to this chapter. Apologies.

Thanks for reading!

God bless,

Dene4 and Sara


	3. Incredible Idea

** Fallaciously Framed!**

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by Dene4 & Simply Sara

**Author's Note/Disclaimer**: For fun, not profit, as always. Any and all non-canonical and/or impossible situations/characterizations/modernizations/etc. found within the following story, are for the sake of said story, so please don't review us citing our misrepresentations or "mistakes". We know canon, sometimes we just choose to ignore/bend/twist it a little bit. But only a little. And only for fun. The idea, genius, and working force behind this story is Dene4, my younger sister. I, Simply Sara, was simply present to edit, offer suggestions, support, corrections, additions, new ideas, new wordings, etc. The title of this story in currently tentative and could change. I personally hope it will, but my sister does have dibs on the title rights.

Well, here's to hoping you'll continue to be amused : )

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**Ch. 3** Incredible Idea

Boromir gazed wistfully out the window. Faramir was getting ready to leave with mother to go down to the lower levels, and he was stuck at this desk, in trouble. Books and papers were spread haphazardly on the desktop before him, some of the papers being crinkled by an elbow that was currently propping up his head. He glanced down at the nearest book and read several words. He was certain he could feel his eyes being sucked into his head and his brain beginning to decompose. His parents seemed to outdo themselves each time they inflicted punishments, each one progressively worse than the last. He was stuck for 3 weeks in the citadel, no friends, no weapons, no toys, only books, papers, ink, quills, and the occasional crumb of food.

Finduilas poked her head in the door. "How's it coming?" she asked very neutrally, Boromir thought, considering the circumstances. He knew enough to know that his mother was the brain behind the extra-hour-of-studying-time-a-day part of the punishment. His mother certainly had her evil sides.

"I'm dying of starvation mother!" he groaned. "I need food!" Finduilas tried not to roll her eyes. It was also hard not to smile or laugh at his exaggerated and theatrical expression.

"Oh, Boromir, don't be so melodramatic. You had broke your fast with the rest of us this morning as usual and in fact ate twice as much as your brother did."

He interrupted before she could continue: "But he's little. I _need_ more food than that!"

"Boromir," Finduilas said in a voice that sounded an awful lot like a warning, "You had _plenty_ to eat. And you most certainly are _not_ starving. In all your days, you have never even come close to it. Whining will not be rewarded." Now she sounded like Father—"Whining will not be rewarded" Boromir mimicked in his head—however, he had gathered enough sense over the years to know not to say so aloud.

He gave her one last pitiful look, hoping to appeal to her mercy, but to no avail. She turned to leave and called out over her shoulder, "I expect that report in my hands by dinner, darling." He could almost hear the honeyed smile in her voice.

He let his elbow slide away and banged his head soundly against the table.

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It was a little after he'd eaten the noon meal, when he got his brilliant and incredible idea. It was simply a fantastic plan. He had finally decided what to do with his idiot card.

He would mail it to Lady Ienmir.

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Aloha again! Sorry about the short length, but, hey, its how my sister wrote it and I had no real plausible reason the change it. It just means that the next chapter will be up all the sooner! : ) And as I promised, dun-da-da-dun! A Reviewer Response Section!

Erestor—Thanks so much for your kind comments! =D They mean a lot coming from you! : ) Unquirked is indeed a very interesting action. I, too, love the word very much. Although my spell checker does not. I must agree, Finduilas is quite a wonderful and clever character. Glad you found Boromir sarcasm and Faramir's speech problems amusing. We try : )

halo343—[huge smiles] We're terribly flattered you think the story is great. And its always great to find out you're not the only one amused by something, isn't it? Hope this update was soon enough! The next one should be here just as quick! : ) Hope you enjoy the rest!

vtangelchix—Very pleased to hear you think our story is awesome! And yes, Faramir is terribly adorable. Since you've brought it up, I think we could certainly work in some Boromir/Faramir dialogue as there isn't really that much so far. Thanks for the idea!

NybCR—Boromir is indeed very naughty don't you know?! = ) We're glad you think this is cute! We find it cute and funny, but its hard to tell what other people are going to think, so its great to know we're not alone!

Nringa Bleh—[turns to Dene4] Did you hear that? Our first review and the lady LOVES it! [grins] Faramir lisping is one of my favorite ideas. As for knowing what Boromir did with the idiot card, I hope you didn't bust before reading this chapter! : )

Thank you all so very much! Your encouraging words are deeply appreciated and make writing/posting this story all the more fun!

I currently STILL have no internet connection on my computer as our new router has not yet arrived. This makes everything more complicated and posting all the more difficult, but the next chapter shouldn't take too long. We've just completed the final draft of this story on paper (I'm totally thrilled with the ending) and it's almost completely typed up as well. The only problem is that it takes transferring it to disk, to another computer that has internet, and then uploading it to to be able to post. But enough of my excuses. I see no reason why the next chapter shouldn't be up by Friday at the latest. Until then! : )

Thanks for reading!

God bless,

Dene4 and Sara


	4. Revenge Is Sweet

**Fallaciously Framed!**

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by Dene4 & Simply Sara

**Author's Note/Disclaimer**: I'm sure you're all getting tired of looking at this section, and reading the same thing over and over, so I've deleted it. Merry Christmas.

This chapter is a _lot_ longer than the others, which were a bit on the…heh heh, short side, if you will, (Thanks, Noldo : D), and features an actual conversation, short though it be, between Boromir and Faramir (for you, vtangelchix). The other chapters have also been slightly edited after I found a few grammatical things. The authors both thank our youngest sister Lauren for coining the phrase "You ball of orc's heads, you" and our younger brother, who only repeated it once in front of our parent's and spared us much punishment and pain.

Alright, on with the show.

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**Ch.**** 4 **Revenge Is Sweet

Lady Ienmir was sifting through the day's mail as she sat contentedly by the fire, the smell of dinner still lingering faintly in the air.

"Nothing but junk," she said to herself, sighing as she tossed another useless letter into the fire to her right. She glanced down at the next letter in her hand and was surprised at what she saw. "Now just what is this?" she murmured. Unsure, she paused. "Hmm," she observed oh so intellectually, and set aside her confusion and ripped open the letter. She pulled from the envelope a piece of paper. She read it in stunned silence. Then she moved her eyes over the words again, not actually comprehending. Once more, Ienmir read the contents of the letter. A gasp made itself known in the relative silence of the room. The fire crackled greedily, waiting for another paper snack. Or something like that.

Truly disbelieving what her eyes were taking in, she read it yet again. "What?!" she shrieked, only a little belatedly. She looked into the envelope once more, thinking that this had to be a joke. Her husband or one of her children was being silly again or something. She reached inside the envelope once more and shook it upside down, the remaining contents falling into her palm. She read one side quickly, "If you want to keep an idiot busy for hours, turn this card over." She raised an eyebrow, but turned the card over in wordless befuddlement. She read the other side. She raised her other eyebrow. Wondering if she'd missed something she turned the card around once more. And then again. And again. And again. She narrowed her eyes and stopped turning the card back and forth.

With smoldering expression and silent fury she made her way to her desk to compose a letter of her own.

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It was still relatively early in the evening, just after supper had been finished, when yet another letter arrived for the Steward. Denethor, Finduilas, and their sons were all gathered on the porch looking over the gardens of the house. The letter carrier announced, "From the Lady Ienmir, my lord." Denethor looked hard at Boromir who merely shrugged innocently. He'd been practicing.

Denethor glanced to the messenger, thanked and dismissed him, before turning back around to share a look with his wife who merely raised both eyebrows, silently urging him to open the letter.

He opened it purposefully, watching Boromir carefully, who merely sat demurely, still playing calmly with his brother on the floor, wooden armies spread about before each of them. Getting no reaction from either son, he softened his expression and prepared himself for a letter praising Boromir's newfound lengthy attention span. He smiled and the thought. For about two seconds, then wisdom got the better of him and he frowned again.

He unfolded the letter, unaware that Finduilas had been watching his 'facial dance', both in puzzlement and amusement. Silently he read through it. Still studying her husband's face, Finduilas immediately gathered that he was not similarly amused, though slightly surprised.

She bit her lip, slightly worried, wondering what it could possibly be now. Wordlessly, he refolded the letter. Reached into the envelope again, and pulled out another piece of folded parchment and what appeared to be a tiny card, reading them each respectively, anger only growing in his expression. He didn't move for a full half minute before refolding and replacing the contents of the envelope in their original container.

"Boromir, please go to your room," Denethor said calmly. Boromir looked up, slightly puzzled, yet wisely complied in silence and quickly retired to his room.

"Faramir, come with me," Denethor continued. Finduilas eyed her husband, more than a little baffled. Faramir wordlessly stood and came to stand beside his father. "Finduilas," Denethor said, "Stay close by." She smiled softly and nodded, wondering why he'd not yet handed her the letter, but not questioning her husband's actions. He knew what he was doing. _Well, most of the time he does anyway_ she thought to herself, smiling in her head.

Faramir trailed after his father in silence as they made their way a little way down the hall to where two guards stood at attention. Denethor nodded to each as they opened the doors, the servants waiting within to light the candles in the dark room. He motioned for his son to take a seat before his desk and sent the servants off, shutting the doors behind them, before seating himself.

He leaned forward onto the desk, propping both elbows on top of its surface, steepling his fingers. Faramir squirmed in his seat a little, his tiny body all but swallowed in the relatively huge chair.

"Faramir," he began in measured tones," I want to know what exactly what was running through your head when you wrote this," he gestured toward the letter he'd placed between them on the desk.

Faramir furrowed his brow in confusion. "But, Daddy, I, I didn't write that!"

"Really?" Denethor asked. "It is signed by you and bears your name on the envelope."

"But, I—I—"

Denethor cut him off by raising a hand. "Do you have any idea how hurtful and unbelievably disrespectful of you this is? Behavior such as this is simply unacceptable. Has not Lady Ienmir taught you much? Have you no respect for your elders? I am certainly very angry with you for this. But mostly, Faramir, I am utterly disappointed."

Faramir's face began to crumple at this news. Taking in his son's wounded face, Denethor almost regretted the words. But he knew that this type of behavior certainly could not be allowed to go unpunished. Faramir sniffed dejectedly.

"I want you to stay here for a moment. Don't move" Denethor stated flatly.

He moved from his chair and opened the doors. "Finduilas," he called out, "A word, if you will?"

He turned around before he saw her coming, and gratefully heard her light footsteps behind him as he returned to his chair. She stepped without a word into the study and took a seat beside her son. Denethor pushed both letters and card towards her.

The picked up Lady Ienmir's letter first, reading it carefully, before picking up the second letter and card. Silence stretched as she read their contents. She paused reading and looked up at Faramir for a moment, eyes twinkling and a small smile formed on her lips. It quickly was replaced however by a calm, expressionless mask soon after Denethor looked at her askance. She finished reading and met her husband's gaze.

"He's a little young for writing, isn't he?" She asked softly.

Denethor's expression immediately turned thoughtful. He opened his mouth to speak and then paused, mouth still open as he pondered. He shut his mouth after a few moments. "Well," he said, starting again, "I suppose you could be right. I hadn't…thought of that." He looked at Faramir, pondering her words then looked back to Finduilas who smiled, eyebrows raised both expressively and pointedly. Denethor sighed.

"Faramir," he began softly, "Come here." Faramir slipped out of the chair and made his way over to his father. Denethor lifted him onto his lap. "You didn't write it, did you?"

"No, Daddy, I can't write," he said.

Denethor closed his eyes for a brief second and cleared his throat. "So I've gathered. I'm sorry for not letting you speak earlier."

"You're not mad at me?" he inquired lightly.

Denethor smiled. "No, not at all." He hugged Faramir before looking him in the eyes once more. "Forgive me?" He queried.

Faramir smiled broadly. "Of course I do!" He exclaimed. Denethor couldn't help but return his smile. He glanced over at Finduilas who was smiling as well.

"And the culprit?" Denethor asked in mock ignorance.

"I have a theory," Finduilas replied dryly.

Denethor nodded knowingly. "Bor—" he began to yell before glancing over at Finduilas. She firmly shook her head and gestured in Faramir's direction. "Right," said Denethor.

"Faramir, why don't you go find your brother and ask him to come here?" Denethor inquired.

Faramir shrugged, "Sure." He slid off his father's lap and made for the door. He turned back for a moment and asked, "When I tell him to come here, do you want me to come back, too?"

"No, you can go ahead and continue your game on the porch if you like," Denethor said. Faramir looked distinctly cheery at the prospect of not having to share. He quickly padded down the hall to go find his brother.

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It didn't take long to locate Boromir: He'd followed directions for once and was sitting on his bed, galloping some figurines across his sheets. Boromir looked up as his younger brother entered the room.

Faramir looked at him in the most serious expression he could muster. "Father and Mother would like to see you now, Bormir."

"It's Bor-o-mir, 'Farmir'" Boromir said, grinning at him. This was a long standing joke between them both. Faramir smiled and giggled.

Boromir gazed at Faramir absently, feeling a little guilty for signing the letter in Faramir's name. He almost felt sorry for what he'd done. But, as Boromir had figured from the start, it appeared that his parent's had gone easy on his little brother—Faramir looked rather happy actually. Boromir had the feeling that his brother could probably get out of anything when it came to his parent's and that silly little grin of his. Yep, just as he'd thought.

He moved off the bed and walked toward the doorway, ruffling Faramir's hair as he went past, and made his way down the hall. He got halfway to the sitting room before remembering, Faramir hadn't said where exactly they both were. He padded a little further past his father's office to the library before---

"In your father's office!" he heard his mother call out. Boromir stopped in his tracks and turned around, slightly creeped out. How did his mother do that? It was like she had another sense or something. It was almost impossible to get anything past her in the end--by either of his parents for that matter. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind, refusing to dwell on it.

The door to the office was slightly ajar as he pushed it open and walked fearlessly inside. He turned to shut the door and then plopped himself without pretense into one of the chairs before his father's desk. Silence for a beat. "So…uh…what's going on?" He asked innocently.

"Boromir, we just received a rather interesting letter containing some very appalling news, not to mention evidence," Finduilas said. "So far, the perpetrator of these crimes has gone unpunished."

"But only so far," Denethor added, "Only until the…proper consequences can be decided upon."

"We were wondering if you might be able to provide us with some advice as to how we should punish the culprit." Finduilas said.

Denethor turned to his wife. "We do?" he asked. He usually launched into the lecture at this point in time. Finduilas nodded pointedly. _Right,_ Denethor thought.

"Well…" Boromir began, thinking with a smile, loving the idea of planning a punishment that would not be his own. "I suppose the culprit should probably be confined to the citadel for a few weeks, 2 extra hours of studying a week maybe. No friends or toys for a few weeks either, and no special events, like parties or tournaments and stuff for…uh…a little while at least. That should do it, I think."

Finduilas nodded. "That's quite a punishment."

"One more thing to ask of you, Boromir," Denethor began, seeing now where this was ultimately headed. "What exactly did the culprit do to deserve this punishment?"

Something in the way his father asked the question made him freeze. Then he tried to answer the question and found himself face to face with an inevitable fact: If he was truly innocent, he wouldn't know what the 'culprit' had done. Oops.

"Uh…"he stammered, "I was just thinking of a…you know…a sort of general…kind of…punishment…thing."

"So I see," Denethor said.

"Would you like to know what our culprit did so that you could perhaps make adjustments to your verdict?" Finduilas inquired. An innocent person would say yes, so Boromir knew he had to so that he might keep up the pretense at least a little longer, but every fiber of his being was screaming at him to say no.

"Uh…sure," Boromir stated weakly.

"Our culprit," said Denethor, "Is not a framed four-year-old who can hardly write his name let alone an entire letter. Ours is the mind behind the words 'Dear ugly Lady Ienmir, Your brain's smaller than a fork, Oh, I forgot: You do not have one, but you do look like an orc.' Our culprit seems to have no qualms about implicating innocent others in his schemes and allowing them to face the punishment for actions they did not commit."

"Our culprit," his mother continued, "Is the brain behind this lovely "idiot" card, the one who seems to have no problem insulting and disrespecting his elders and writing horrible things, and yet struggles with finding the strength to even write a paragraph on something worthwhile."

"To directly quote our culprit 'You ball of orc's heads, you': Boromir, is this the kind of language one should be using?" Denethor asked.

He gulped and smiled weakly. "No," he ventured softly.

"Bingo," stated Finduilas, forcing a smile.

"Well, any guesses as to who our culprit really is?" Denethor asked blithely.

"Answer carefully," Finduilas added forcefully, stone-faced.

"Uh…me?" Boromir speculated.

"Right again," Finduilas supplied.

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Reviewer Response Section (as it has now been dubbed)

Noldo—Thanks for the suggestion of lengthening the chapters. You're certainly right about them being too short; we were waiting for someone to bring it up though. My sister drafted this in a wide-ruled notebook, so the chapters looked rather long until we typed them up. Glad to see you like this story! Knowing how stupendously funny _your_ stories are makes your praise all the more valuable. Thanks! : D

Erestor—I, too, find the idea that Boromir sees things so differently rather amusing. I'm glad you loved the title and the intro paragraph, as both were a spur of the moment thing while we were typing this up. And I can just see you writing that on a napkin. Very you : D. Rather brilliant thing to do actually. I won't be surprised if I find myself writing something similar on a napkin next time we go out to eat…

Thanks a million for reading! Next chapter will be up after Sunday, as I will be playing babysitter this weekend and my sister hates typing.

God bless,

Dene4 and Sara


	5. And the Rest Is History

**Fallaciously Framed!**

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by Dene4 & Simply Sara

**Author's Note/Disclaimer**: I'm sure you're all getting tired of looking at this section, and reading the same thing over and over, so I've deleted it. Merry Christmas. If you really want a disclaimer, see the first chapter.

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Ch.**5**

It had been getting late, so Denethor and Finduilas had sent their sons off to bed, postponing the pronouncement of Boromir's punishment till the morrow.

The room was cloaked in darkness, all save the fireplace, embers still burning dimly, and the slight beams of moonlight streaming in from the window. Boromir was finding it very difficult to sleep, what with the prospect of beginning his new life in chains the next day. He kept tossing and turning, uncomfortable no matter what he did. He hadn't realized how noisy he was being until Faramir's voice piped up from the bed a few feet away: "Goodness Boromir, are you okay?"

Boromir was in no mood to talk to his younger brother. Faramir still seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that Boromir had tried to get him in trouble and that, at the moment, he should probably be anything but concerned for him. "I'm fine," he said, somewhat huffily, exasperated not with his brother, but with himself.

"You don't sound fine," was the blunt reply.

"Grrr," Boromir growled, still angry at himself, "Just go to sleep."

Faramir sat up, determined to get to the bottom of this. "Not till you tell me what's wrong!" he pouted perfectly. His childish guiles were all but totally lost in the shadows, however.

"Why do you care?"

Now Faramir was simply confused. Even in the worst trouble his brother had ever been in, he'd never seen him like this. Too young to be warned off by Boromir's acerbic speech, he continued boldly. "Of course I care! I'm your brother!" He exclaimed a little too loudly.

"Shhhh!" shushed Boromir, "Someone will hear and then we'll both be in trouble!"

Faramir humphed, but said nothing more, not wishing to be in trouble. A few minutes of silence later, Boromir heard the sounds of soft snoring coming from his brother's bed and fervently wished sleep could come so swiftly to him.

Morning came all too soon for Boromir's liking. He prepared for the day in silence, Faramir still glancing at him in puzzlement every so often, still trying to decipher his elder brother's strange mood.

At breakfast, too, Boromir was wisely silent, not daring to meet either parent's eyes fully. Faramir had little trepidation, however, in smiling broadly in good morning and chattering to fill in the quiet.

Boromir noted that his brother's effervescent chatter seemed to greatly amuse his mother and father, who, he supposed, were probably mentally arranging the most excruciating ways to keep him locked away for the rest of his days.

As the meal neared its end, Denethor turned to his eldest child. "Boromir, I suppose you know where you're going after breakfast?"

Boromir nodded the affirmative and took another bite of his food. Normally, he would be thrilled to skip his morning studies, but the alternative activity presented this day was in fact far less appealing than lessons. Breakfast soon was at an end, and Boromir quickly found himself tucked into a chair before his father's desk. He was surprised how rapidly one's life could approach its final end.

"You brought this upon yourself, you know," Denethor said quietly staring at Boromir from across the desk's wide surface. "Contrary to what you may believe, we do not enjoy punishing you." Finduilas nodded her agreement to this statement. "Do you understand why this behavior is not at all acceptable and requires consequences so that it—hopefully—will not be repeated?"

"Yes," Boromir acknowledged, head bowed.

"Look at me," Denethor said softly. Boromir did so hesitantly. "What you did was wrong, and it is clear you understand this. While there would be a certain justice, both poetic and ironic, about giving you the sentence you mapped out, I do not think it a punishment that will change your future behavior or help you to learn from your mistakes. Since these are our main goals in enforcing punishments in the first place, it would indeed defeat our purposes to keep you locked away in the citadel, would it not?"

"I suppose so, sir," Boromir replied, still unevenly meeting his father's gaze. He wavered for a moment as both parent's sighed in unison.

"Before we do hand down the consequences for this behavior, we'd like a few answers," Denethor said.

"You thought," Finduilas began, drawing Boromir's gaze to her, "we believed Faramir the offender, and so believed the punishment you planned was for him, though he was innocent. Why then did you make it so… severe?" Boromir dropped his eyes.

"I was just…well…I…I thought…he…he would…he would get away with it as he usually does. I…I…never thought you'd ever really do that to_him_." Boromir choked out.

Something in the way he emphasized 'him' made both parent's stop. "So you think we would inflict such a punishment on you?" Finduilas asked.

"Well…maybe."

"I think that answers the question of why you decided to make it look like your brother had done it in the first place: You thought he wouldn't be punished?"

"Uh…yes."

Denethor and Finduilas exchanged a look. "Boromir…" Denethor began. Boromir raised his eyes to his father's face with trepidation. Finduilas chewed noiselessly on the corner of her lip.

"Your brother is younger and therefore requires a different type of punishing than you," Denethor said after a moment. "Divergent from what you think, Faramir would not have gotten away without consequences had he done what you framed him with, though he would have received a different punishment than you."

"You are nearly 5 years his elder, Boromir," Finduilas continued. "Though it may seem unfair to treat you differently sometimes, think of how unjust it would be to treat you exactly the same."

Denethor sighed. "It is a hard lesson to learn. My elder sisters used to complain that I could get away with murder if I'd wanted to. My parent's tried hard to show them this was not true, though I don't think my sisters believed it until the day I was caught sho…never mind what I was doing—that's not the point."

"The point is," Finduilas went on, "that we love you and want nothing more than to see you and your brother grow to be honorable men. And that requires consequences and boundaries, rules, now."

Boromir nodded, still taking in all his parent's had said.

"You will continue to be grounded to the Citadel for the remainder of your original punishment and will still be held by all of your initial penalty's confines. However," Denethor said, glancing at Finduilas, "we've decided that the only new addition to your first…sentence, if you will, is that you will be writing what we trust will be sincere letters of apology to Lady Ienmir and your brother."

Boromir nodded avidly.

"Good," said Denethor, rising from his desk. "I must go now and see how the realm fared in my absence this morning," he continued eyes widening, betraying his amusement.

Boromir could not help but smile up at him and Denethor could not help but smile back. He crouched down beside his son and hugged him tight. He rose, kissed Finduilas' cheek and then quit the room, saying nothing more.

Finduilas stared after him for a moment, and then turned her gaze to Boromir, raising her eyebrows as she did. She held out her hand, he took it, and she led him from the room. "Off to school we go."

He tried to hide the face he made, but his mother caught his grimace before he could erase it. She smiled and suppressed a laugh, knowing her son would find it slighting.

Later that night after dinner, Finduilas and Denethor sat on the porch as Faramir zoomed wooden figures around in the air nearby. Boromir was within writing up his letters, more precisely the one to Lady Ienmir—or at least trying to. Every few minutes he'd come out with a new draft, hand it to his father, who concocted a new reaction every time. And though each reaction was different, they all meant the same thing to Boromir: Nice try. Do it again. Boromir would sigh or make a face in exasperation and Finduilas would smile and wait to laugh until Boromir was out of earshot.

The evening wore on, and soon Faramir was yawning more than he was zooming and so Finduilas gathered him up to only minor protestation and took him inside to wash up before bed. Denethor followed, carrying Faramir's toys. As he passed the door to his sons' bedroom where Boromir was hard at work, he knocked on the door jam and said, "Time to get ready for bed."

"Just a minute," Boromir said, pen flying. Denethor made no comment, happy enough that his son was even trying to be apologetic and writing at the same time.

As Faramir was standing on a stool before the sink, brushing his teeth with four-year-old fervor, Finduilas made her way to where her husband stood in the door way. She smiled up at him.

"You're brilliant you know," he said to her. She blushed and looked at him, bemused.

"As are you," she replied.

He leaned in to kiss her just as Faramir looked over.

"Get a room," he pronounced wickedly

Denethor pulled back and simply stared at his son and Finduilas turned around, similarly staring.

"Where in all of Middle earth did you hear that?!" he sputtered after a moment.

"From Boromir," Faramir stated simply.

Finduilas closed her eyes and let out a breath very slow and deliberate like.

Denethor whirled. "Boromir!" he shouted.

THE END

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Reviewer Response:

vtangelchix—They are adorable, aren't they? = ) That's a LOT of thank you's! I'm very happy you liked it. Here's to hoping you liked this chapter, too! I always like writing affectionate Denethor & Faramir moments and I'm someone else finds them pleasant, too. I guess you could call me an optimist when it comes to their relationship. And yes, I_could_tell you loved dear Faramir =D Although I probably never would have called Boromir's punishments 'cute' I'm glad to hear someone does! They were driving me crazy trying to word them right! And it seems everyone's a fan of longer chapters these days, myself included ;-)

Noldo—Glad to see our phrases are spreading around! I wonder what I'd do if someone called ME a ball of orc's heads…hmmm. 3 years isn't really that long, but isn't it scary sometimes to think back to what we were like 3 years ago? I, for one, find my 3-years-ago-self to be a rather frightening being. I must be honest: I had not considered Boromir's punishments 'cute' myself (at least that's not the word I was thinking of)…but hey...whatever floats your boat down the Anduin ; ) I did find Boromir's poem however, to be one of my sister's cuter inventions. And yes, a brain is what Ienmir is (allegedly) lacking :D "It's also good to see fics where Denethor is not portrayed as a total jerk" To this I can only add a firm and fervent 'AMEN'

Erestor—Faramir was indeed the one Fallaciously Framed, as I'm sure you figured out by now. I do love a good alliteration. Hope this chapter explained a little bit more about why Boromir's punishments were…uh…harsh…even though he did feel guilty. Sad indeed that Ienmir is no idiot: She was such a perfect victim for the card [devious grins]. When I read the part about Boromir not suffering enough I couldn't help but laugh. Clearly he isn't in too much pain. : ) "Don't look up": That's a good one! It is indeed terrible fun to do such things. I love stuff like that. Reminds me of how The Twins are so often portrayed. That's probably why I like them so much.

Dark Borg Drone—But punishments are good! Really!............Did I convince you? Nope? I didn't think so. They didn't go too hard on him in the end see. Although who knows what trouble will befall him now after he taught Faramir to say such things. Glad to have a new reviewer! : )

Thank you all so much for reading and telling us what you thought along the way! We're terribly thrilled you guys enjoyed this! Thanks a million to all of you who took the time to review. Hope you liked the end!

Cheers & God bless,

Sara and Dene4


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